For Infallible Reason
by riesling
Summary: It wasn't like he planned to take advantage of her or anything. She was completely sober. The only thing Leif planned to take take advantage of was the fact that she was asleep and unaware he'd just broken in to her dormitory. / It's about catharsis, a purging of the soul and the self... / R&R / Third and final chapter posted. Complete, unless you convince me otherwise.
1. Chapter 1

**For Infallible Reason**

 **Author's Note** :: I needed to rewrite this story. It's better now, loves - I promise. Still angsty but definitely better. Also, I don't think this one is over - but I'm not sure where I'd take it next. What do you think?

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 **Disclaimer** :: Destiny isn't mine. But you'd better believe this story would be canon if it was. Characters are mine but the stuff that'd make me money is not.

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Leif studied her with a careful eye; desiring to memorize each curve, each rise and slope of her body. From the way she was laying on her stomach with one arm tucked beneath her head, just underneath a pillow stained dark mascara, to the way auburn hair spilled around her like a liquid fire of golden amber. He was enraptured; unable to bring himself to look away from her. In considering the way a tanned length of one of her legs was thrust out from beneath her crisp white sheets, he couldn't say how it was that he'd missed it – but at some time between when they'd been awoken to their Traveler's light, four years prior, and this moment that found him shameless in his admiration as she slept, she'd grown up.

She'd grown up to be downright beautiful in all those unintended, understated ways that left him unable to keep the thoughts of her from dancing with those of his most primitive desires.

And, sure, he'd always recognized hers to be a face that held a glimmer and a promise of what feature beauty she might one day come to exude, but he'd been far too proud, too headstrong, too… well, too much of everything that she was not to admit that he'd taken much notice before. What, with the way those fragile moonbeams brought a trickle of blue-amethyst light whispering across her angular features, almost crimson as the light washed through the tattered remains of a parachute she had salvaged from the Rusted Lands, he could no longer pretend he didn't notice.

He decided, then, that she must have been an angel – or the closest that he was ever going to get to one.

Sitting in the dark silence of her dormitory, he pondered that he had known her for as long as he could remember; throughout their training missions, despite the time that he would spend in the Crucible when she would retire to the library, when she became a mentor, a scholar, a lecturer, and then after. He only had one good eye by which to notice that her merits stacked higher than his own – with the other, taken from him in a training incident and since obscured behind a tattered gray eye patch, he'd held his secret fears in safety.

Because for all the years that he'd ignored himself watching her and had tried in vain to convince himself that she didn't matter, he didn't care, he didn't want her, the walls he'd been so careful to construct to protect his deepest, most sincere desires had shattered that night when he'd watched another Titan tangle his fingers through those luscious locks of her amber hair.

It had been the way that she'd laughed at the other Guardian, a soft flush over her cheeks…

In that moment, like lightning, he'd realized that regardless of whichever ways he tried to forget, to ignore, she had been to him like oxygen in his lungs. She had kept him alive; it had always been she who had given him purpose and the desire to live – that one day he might carve out a path in life that would make him worthy of even a moment of her attention.

And so what if he'd had a few too many drinks?

It wasn't like he had planned to take advantage of her or anything. She was completely sober. She had had the foresight to leave before the barkeep brought out the good tequila.

The only thing that Leif planned to take advantage of was the fact that she was asleep and unaware that he'd just broken in to her dormitory. What he'd intended after gaining entry even he wasn't sure; the plan had only gone so far as to satisfy his pressing need to see her, to be near her. Second thoughts and consequences were yet to cross his mind; he'd been just drunk enough to test his luck. Because he really wanted her right now – Emillie, this Warlock, someone that he knew wouldn't reject him. Someone Leif knew he could trust.

Maybe in his earlier days as a Guardian he would have been content to leave his worship to the wayward, admiring glances he'd paid her that evening at the bar.

But right now, tonight, he needed something more.

So he dropped to his knees at the edge of her bed, pulling rough gloves from trembling fingers. He dropped the gloves on the floor and extended a careful hand beneath her soft sheets to meet the warm skin of her back. But where he'd expected his calloused fingertips to find smooth, perfect skin Leif instead felt the raised marks of her scars – solar magic employed to cauterize a wound, a contusion where her ribs had broken but not been set to mend, an angry mark that could only speak of the improper administration of sutures.

It was a sobering realization – for weren't angels meant to be without scars and unbroken?

She sighed a quiet, content sound and the Titan recoiled, pulling his hand away as though she'd burned him. He frowned for the realization of what he'd been about to do. Disgraceful. She deserved so much more than to find a man such as himself pawing at her. She deserved someone who sought to mend, to protect her – a man who did not possess hands which had only ever known how to destroy and break. The Traveler knew Leif didn't understand his own strength; he was as likely to leave her bruised as he was to please her.

"Fuck," he muttered, falling backwards to sit on his heels, still at her bedside. Leif ran trembling fingers through his sandy-brown bangs, drawing a deep breath to calm the rapid pace his heart was hammering against his ribs. What was he doing, anyway? This was Emillie – she was so different from the other women of Tower he'd chased and had. She was untouchable, better than anyone he should even so much as wish for.

He let his breath leave his lungs in a long sigh, taking with it whatever drunken inclination had brought him to her bedside in the first place. He couldn't just slide into her bed and make love to her as if he had the right to do so.

It had been selfish of him to come to her tonight.

But even as he made up his mind to leave, to turn around and run like hell away from this ill-fated decision, her breath sighed out from between parted lips. And he imagined that she might have edged closer to him in her sleep; that her brow might have furrowed for what displeasure she felt at having been ripped of his touch.

He brushed her shoulder blade with the back of his knuckles, watching her relax into her linen sheets.

Leif couldn't take his hands away from her, then. He couldn't keep shaky fingers from creeping over her bare shoulder, perfect and unmarred for all her labors as a Guardian. He traced the delicate lines of her throat, slid his knuckles over her jawbone as he eased closer to find that her face was as perfect in sleep as when she laughed, when she smiled. He wiped away the traces of mascara that had trailed ugly lines down her high cheekbones. With his thumb he touched her lips, so warm and the color of dying sunlight. He closed his eye, ashamed of himself, when her lips parted once more, accidentally seductive.

He bit his lower lip; desperate, so desperate for more…

When he returned his gaze to her, Leif found that her eyes were open, sleep-lidded and glazed; she didn't seem surprised to find him there, kneeling beside her bed and halfway leaning over her, still caressing her cheek. He had his own suspicions about what he must have looked like – still wearing his armor, eye patch, and smelling of tequila or worse. But she'd seemed not at all concerned with his appearance or the motivation that brought him there.

She said nothing, just sighed with a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

And she turned her cheek into the palm of his hand.

When she closed her sea-green eyes, failing to demand that he absent himself from her room, she'd sealed her fate.

Nothing short of another Collapse could get him out of there now that she'd given her tacit, if not hesitant, permission. And if she was ever to be made to understand how much she had endeared herself to him in that simple gesture… the Traveler knew that Leif would never possess the words to tell her so.

Edging aside the sheet to expose all of her back, he eased onto the bed beside her and tangled his fingers through the thick locks of her amber-gold hair. Strong hands, timid at first, slid through the silky strands to find her scalp in a gentle massage. He closed his eye when he heard her soft coo of approval and replied by bringing his lips to her temple.

He wondered if she was aware of what she was asking and of whom she was asking it from.

If she would be angry with him when it was over.

If she would ever forgive him.

But when one of her delicate hands found the side of his face to caress the stubble that had formed there and she whispered his name in a doubtful, longing tone – it was all he could do to keep himself from smiling down at her.

She didn't ask why he'd come – instead, her left hand trailed from his cheek to the place at the back of his neck where she could release the armor from his strong figure. Her right hand came to rest on his bicep, breaking loose the arm guard from the chest plate. Leif didn't ask her when she'd come to understand how to remove Titan armor half asleep and with her eyes closed. He was almost bitter about having made the realization. How easy it all seemed to her.

And he decided that he didn't want to ponder over how long the list of her lovers might span. If her sum were anything close to his own, this – whatever this was about to become – would mean little to her the next morning. He tried to tell himself that he hadn't come to her because he'd wanted to make himself mean something to her but he knew as soon as the thought had formed in his mind that he was only telling himself another lie.

While his right hand remained laced through her amber hair, his left whispered down her bare shoulder, her bicep, to rest at her hip where smooth lace separated her skin from his touch; she was so delicate with feminine curves despite the years of physical toil she'd weathered as a Guardian. She felt frail and slight under his hands – but Leif knew better than to think her weak, even for a moment. He'd heard the quiet mutterings of all that she was capable; even still, he hadn't prepared himself to expect such subtle femininity from her.

Leif pressed his lips to her collarbone, unlacing his opposite hand from where it was still tangled in her amber hair to bring it to rest upon the curve where her neck met her shoulder. He heard her breath catch in the back of her throat, sleepy and low but beholden, imploring him to continue. Where only a few moments before, she had been fast asleep, Emillie was beginning to wake under his touch and respond with fervency. She had managed to relieve the Titan of his arm guards and seemed to struggle within herself whether or not she ought to appreciate the strong muscles of his arms she'd left exposed or free the rest of him.

In response to her unspoken hesitation, Leif removed his own chest plate, pulling away from the Warlock only long enough to complete the task. And when he returned to her, he slid his left hand beneath her side, running a strong hand over the scar on her back, just beneath her ribcage – the same one he'd earlier considered to be the result of incautious stitches. Emillie shivered, her hands finding his neck to trail across the taut muscles of his shoulders and then glide over his chest. Then she shifted, settling into his bare arms and he pulled her closer still as his lips found the delicate curve of one of her breasts.

Her body stiffened for an instant before she relaxed. And Leif decided that he liked the way her breath would fall from her lips in soft pants, the way that her skin shimmered in the dawning light of morning, hypnotizing and aglow for the faintest hint of perspiration beginning to collect there. He closed his good eye to the feeling of her nails scraping over the broad expanse of his back and smiled at the way those soft fingers clutched helplessly at his sandy-brown hair, his shoulders, anything she could find to make an anchor. Leif was careful where he held her for the pressure of his left hand against her back and how tight his grip became on her hip with his right.

But he couldn't let her go.

He wouldn't allow himself for fear she might realize who he was, what they were doing together…

And then there was the sound she made when he slid his fingers inside of her – a soft pant, a pained sound in the back of her throat as though the caress hadn't brought her the relief she'd desired but had wound her up even tighter.

He knew what he was doing. He might have lifted her up to let her fall, taken her from one climax to the next in a matter of moments. But he was a selfish, selfish man when he held her in his arms. He wanted to be inside of her when she came. He wanted to feel her around him, holding him, adoring him, and breathing those soft, husky breaths in his ear.

Without hesitation, Leif tore the lace fabric from her hips and tossed the tattered garment to the floor atop his armor.

She'd pulled away from his embrace to look up at him, her green eyes glazed over in lust and adoration as she set to the task of working free the remaining closures of his armor. The Titan caught her fingers to still them, moving his left hand to gently tilt her face up to press his lips against hers.

And he felt her tense.

He watched her turn her face away – and when his lips met her skin, it was her cheek he found instead of those warm lips he'd had his mind set on since the moment she had invited him into her bed.

The Titan let her struggle with the task of his pants for a moment or two longer than he'd intended… even as her persistence paid off and she'd managed to work free the closure. She was focused on tugging the armor down his hips; so he helped her by kicking the garment the rest of the way to the ground.

Then he pressed his lips to her pulse, holding her bare skin to bare skin.

And she sighed like she had dreamed of this for all her life.

He couldn't keep himself from kissing her after that; the tender skin of her neck, her jawbone, her shoulders, her collarbone. In the morning, she would wear all the marks of his affections and the Titan took silent pleasure in this realization. Even as he was pulling her leg over his waist, fitting their hips together so he could ease himself inside of her, she'd never once pressed her lips against his skin. But he was too preoccupied with everything else; her taste, the warmth of her skin against his, the way it felt to have her hair brush against his cheek, his neck, his chest. He was lost, entranced by the sweet noises she made in the back of her throat and the way that her slender figure writhed in pleasure within his arms.

When she gasped, tense and sharp, Leif pulled away in time to catch her wince.

"Fuck, Emillie," he frowned, brushing her soft bangs away from her eyes with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry, I never meant to-"

"It's alright," she whispered, pressing her cheek to his. "If I'm to be broken, I want it to be you, Leif."

And she turned to bury her face in his neck, her hands running over his abdomen before finding his biceps, his shoulders, and then coming to wrap around his neck.

"Ruin me. Pull me apart that when you're finished I won't remember his hands weren't always yours."

And he trembled for the tone of her voice, the feeling of moisture against his shoulder from her tears. He wasn't sure if it was regret or guilt that he felt first; even as her fingers raked through his sandy-brown locks of hair, even when her foot grazed against his calf. Leif's voice was hesitant as he wrapped his arms around her lithe frame, "Is that why you think I'm here?"

"Why are you here?"

But he had no answer.

He was shamed to silence that she should think such things of his intentions. But he was too afraid to tell her that this was about more than just that, whatever it was she thought. If it would have been a lie that he would tell her, Leif was uncertain – he hadn't really thought his intentions through. To that point, he'd been acting on his own selfish inclinations.

But if she was at all irritated by his silence, she made no indication as she experimented with raking her hips over his. Leif hissed, gripping her body where his hands fell to rest over her hips. He fought to maintain his sense of self-control, to remain still while she adjusted to him. If he hurt her… fuck, she'd already said as much herself – when he hurt her, he didn't want to later wind up just another name on her list of regrets. He couldn't live with himself…

So when he kissed her, claiming her mouth with his own, it was to comfort her. And he only hoped that it could impart all the emotion he was, himself, still struggling to wade through – regret, sorrow, passion… when he kissed her, he'd done so like it would be his last.

And she didn't pull away.

She just drew her body closer to his and kissed him back.

Leif slid one hand down to where their bodies were joined and he stroked her. It was only a matter of seconds before she caught fire; sighing her content into the place where his neck met his shoulder, biting down on his collarbone to keep from crying out. Her back arched, her chest pressed tight against his own… and he began to move a tender rhythm, slow and gentle. He'd never imagined that she would be a virgin; though he knew he'd never be able to convince himself that he wasn't glad that she'd have no other example by which to measure him. He was going to make sure that it was his hand, his touch that she would long for; it would be his name she would remember to cry out, his body that she would cling to when all other sense of purpose was lost to her.

He'd do just as she had asked. He would ruin her; help her to forget that she was still in love with someone else… someone that wasn't him.

As all the sounds he'd desired to hear began to pour from her throat, her legs wrapped around his waist and brought their bodies closer still. Her body trembled in his arms as she convulsed and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to resist the urge to thrust hard and fast as he edged closer to his own climax. Next time, when she wasn't so sore, he'd show her a dozen different ways to make love. And he wouldn't feel so compelled to be careful with her then.

If there was a next time…

But he banished the fear as soon as it arose; a tight and uncomfortable knot in the pit of his stomach. Leif smiled something bittersweet into the soft auburn hair at her temple as she curled, exhausted, into his arms. He collected her into the protective warmth of his embrace, unsure if he'd held her with such tenderness because it was what she needed or if it had been because he'd needed it himself. Her head came to rest beneath his chin as her heart hammered an erratic, uneven pace against his chest. He was silent as her breathing evened out and she drifted to sleep.

Leif decided it was for the best.

Because it left ample time that he might consider the guilt which was just beginning to set in. Emillie didn't belong to him. He'd had no business in the world climbing into bed with her. And he'd definitely had no business being there when she'd never been to bed with anyone else before him. His interests weren't inclined to make a habit of deflowering virgins. It was a gift she'd given him – one he knew that he didn't earn and would never deserve.

He sighed, running a hand through his tangled hair as he felt the steady rise and fall of her breath. Her skin seemed to glow in the pre-dawn sunlight, casting a delicate shadow over her fragile features.

She shifted in her sleep, turning her back to him. And the Titan made no attempt to keep her close. He'd wanted to look at her, sure – to see her face when she wasn't looking back at him and remember all those things he'd come to admire about her. Because he expected the next time she looked at him it would not be with an emotion he desired. Would it be pain? Regret? Anger? Because he'd never dreamed of stirring within her any of those emotions.

He didn't know anymore what all of his feelings meant.

The one thing he knew for sure – he had to leave.

She couldn't rely on him to provide the sort of stability and protection that she needed. With his heavy hands he had, before, broken so much else – and he'd destroy himself before he'd cause her more pain than he already had. So Leif would give her the next best thing he could think of – privacy and a little bit of time that she might be allowed to collect herself in secret, away from his gaze and all the _disappointment-frustration-regret_ that his image was sure to rouse within her soul.

He wanted that she wouldn't see him go. If she gave him even a glimmer of hope that she wished for him to stay, he knew that he would never, could never pull himself away. Not after what he'd just taken from her.

So he shifted towards the edge of the bed, trying not to wake her as he began the quiet task of putting his armor back on. And he might have walked out the door just as easily as he'd entered – but something stopped his feet where they fell, called to him that he should turn around to look at her just once more.

Leif bit his lower lip, rubbing absent-minded circles over his armor above the place where his heart hammered fierce in his chest.

She was hauntingly beautiful, innocent-looking awash in the soft light of morning. And he could swear the shadows cast a whisper of wings over her fragile silhouette… an angel, the closest he would ever have, all wrapped up in white sheets.

But she wasn't asleep.

Though she had her back turned to him, he could tell she was staring out of the floor to ceiling windows to watch the sun climb out from behind the mountains that surrounded the Last City. Her hands had taken up the task of wringing the sheets around her, surveying their softness like it might compare to how it had felt to have his skin pressed against hers.

"It's okay, Leif," she murmured with no hint of sadness or remorse in her voice. The sound that met his ears was only the delicate, smooth tenor with which she always addressed him. And even though he knew she hadn't intended it, her words scorched his soul not entirely unlike how he imagined her solar magic might have felt, "I knew you would have to go; that you would be nothing more than a wraith, a shadow by sunrise."

His stomach dropped.

His palms grew sweaty.

And he hesitated.

Regretted.

Leif broke like he'd never dreamed possible.

It marked the first time that a woman – a lover – had given him permission to leave. Every time before, he'd slipped away unnoticed. He'd never once stayed over. He'd never even wanted to.

But this time… with her, everything felt different.

She was the first woman he'd ever made love to, where it hadn't been just for the mutual satisfaction of two over-amorous Guardians. And she'd been the first to extend to him salvation in her tiny arms… absolution from his sins and forgiveness that she'd come to find her hands stained by his collar, woven in depravity and dyed in blood.

Emillie had welcomed, had encouraged his hands – that they might save her from her loneliness and take away the pain. He had failed. Leif knew as much, even if Emillie hadn't realized it yet. But in turn, he realized that he'd lost a part of himself in her – somewhere between an open invitation into her bed like he might have been medicine for her ailments and the tender, delicate way that her body had trembled in his arms when he'd made love to her… he'd left a piece of his heart with hers.

Leif could only hope it was the best part as he knelt down beside her bed and placed a strong hand on her shoulder, kissing the back of her neck while the fingers of his left hand laced through the strands of auburn hair spilling out across her pillow.

"Goodbye, Emillie."

It was far more than he'd ever done for anyone before her – but he left ill at ease all the same.

Because for the first time in his life, he'd wanted more than anything that she would ask for him to stay…


	2. Chapter 2

**For Infallible Reason**

 **Author's Note** :: Well, part two… I'd appreciate your feedback; it wasn't exactly the easiest thing I've ever written; maybe that's why it's short.

 **Disclaimer** :: Destiny isn't mine. But you'd better believe this story would be canon if it was. Characters are mine but the stuff that'd make me money is not.

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The nightmares had grown less frequent since he'd come to her that night but they were always there; a shadow forever on the horizon – ominous, looming. Some nights, it seemed as though the terrors came with the force of an unknown Darkness rushing forward against the Last City; dark thoughts wandering through the vast seas of her perceptions as though driving her towards madness of their own accord. Sometimes, she could almost feel him there with her; wading beside her through the storm, holding his hand out that she might use him as an anchor against the tumbling feeling of insanity threatening to sweep her away.

"Elias?"

Even if only in her dreams, it was nice not to be alone.

Each terror was always the same, a midnight symphony of bodies breaking and gunfire that would fuse with what sounds she made thrashing about through her own covers, the labored rhythm of her breath with maddening gasps as adrenaline coursed through her tired limbs. When she slept, everything was tangible and artificial all at once – her memories of the times they'd spent together; smiling, laughing, his arms around her shoulders and his lips against that tender place just behind her ear.

" _I love you, Emillie, always."_

And then it would all be lost to her in an instant; she could swear she still felt his blood on her hands, seeping through the tough exterior of her gloves to collect beneath her fingernails.

All of it as real as the cool night air she feared would eventually overcome her.

The nightmares played upon her guilt, the culpability that she'd not spoken up about what suspicions she'd harbored in secret, growing stronger with each hesitant footfall, rising from the pit of her stomach – something wasn't right. She had known it with the same certainty that she'd known they should have never disobeyed Commander Zavala to explore the underground of the Cosmodrome. They were too green, too inexperienced. And she'd known it, had accepted it – yet she had followed behind him without hesitation. The Warlock had let him walk into the open, unshielded, several meters ahead of herself and the Titan, Hiram, who had rounded out their Fireteam.

"Elias!"

" _Emillie?"_

Then gunfire.

It was always the sound of his screams that terrified her most; a cacophony of torment and terror, his gruesome acknowledgement of everything that was dread and pain and regret forever emblazoned in her most terrible illusions. For all the hundreds of times his voice had haunted her dreams, the Warlock still couldn't decide if he had known, then, that he was going to die.

His Light had faded, been defeated; he had fallen away from her into a furious wave of Arc and Solar energy. It was the sound of shock rifles, the growl of a Fallen Captain and his shrapnel launcher, one shock grenade, then another, and the elated screams of those Fallen Devils that would overwhelm him; the way his body had been consumed by Solar energy to light his Golden Gun – fired once, twice, three times. The knife thrown with deadly precision into the face of a nearby Vandal…

And the way that, for all his efforts, it hadn't been enough.

"Oh, Elias."

Her body burned hot in her bed as she entangled her struggling limbs in white linen sheets; the memory of how it had felt to catch him as he fell, to hold his broken body so tenderly against her chest. Then there was the calm serenity that came when the Titan cast his Ward of Dawn over their Fireteam, summoning his Ghost that their trio could return to orbit, that they could get their Hunter back to Tower.

She had been silent as she cataloged his injuries.

"Walked right into that."

"Shh!" she'd scolded, imagining that the Hunter was smirking the same confident, cocksure grin she'd come to admire in him from behind his helmet. Her voice had cracked, "Save your strength."

"I'm glad you're alright," he'd tried again, coughing twice and otherwise unable to finish his thought.

"Listen to the Warlock," Hiram had ordered, his attention on the collective of Fallen underlings closing in.

Her hands had been desperate, alight in Solar magic, to stop the bleeding, trailing over his armor but unreservedly futile as his blood soaked through her gloves and stained the folds of fabric at her knees. She'd felt the emptiness in him, a void where his Light used to be. So she had removed his helmet in an effort to help him draw breath. And then she'd removed her own, drinking in the last dying glimmer, a mischievous glint, of his sky blue eyes.

"Your Ghost?"

But he'd only shaken his head, so weak in her arms.

With his last ounce of strength, he'd grabbed her hand, bringing it to rest with his own over the place where his heart struggled to beat in its steady rhythm within his chest. And he'd smiled.

"Goodbye, Emillie."

She'd held him until long after his last breath, her Hunter Elias – long after his eyes had closed and all of her sensors set to track his vitals had gone blank. His Ghost had been lost, a pile of melted metal and copper wire at her feet. She had been unable to revive him.

"It's too late, Hiram," she'd whispered, biting back her tears.

"Hold on to him, Emillie," the Titan had ordered, his Ghost finally able to reestablish the signal to their jump ships, waiting in orbit.

He had still been in her arms when they rematerialized in the hold of her ship. And the tears had fallen unnoticed over his chest plate, mixing with blood as she had pressed her lips to his temple and cradled his head against her chest. Rocking backwards and forwards, she had cried alone for only her Ghost to hear, "I will never let him go."

 _"Let him go, Guardian."_

She'd been in between dreams the night that Leif had come to her. And he'd held her, stilled the reviving of her quiet horrors when all she'd wanted was to mourn for the death of a man who would never again hold her in his arms; the Titan had been there when she'd needed desperately for someone to enfold her, to keep her safe. He'd prevented her spiraling alone against her dark reflections, even if it had lasted for only a few hours.

He'd made love to her when she'd not possessed strength enough or purpose to even love herself. He'd offered her an escape, a cure and silence for the nightmares that would lurk in the furthest recesses of her mind. And, for that, she worried whether she might ever repay him. So she'd let him go when he'd made to leave; she hadn't tried to hold on because he'd already given her so much – how could she be so selfish to ask for more?

The nightmares had grown less frequent since he'd come to her that night; they mostly stayed away when she could sense his presence in the Tower but she knew better than to wish herself free of them entirely. Whether Leif was near or not, they came to her, hallucinations that mixed the images of the Titan and the Hunter together, the pair of them cavorting through the shadows of her consciousness; violent metaphors of fire, and ash, and ember. Until she couldn't be certain whether she was still asleep, that she had ever been; until she wasn't sure that either had ever been real to her at all.

"Goodbye, Emillie."

Pale green eyes shot open as she rolled over on her side, clutching for the empty place on the bed beside her.

"Leif?"

Her shoulders shook as she drew quick, quivering breaths to help calm her nerves. It had only been another nightmare – and now, with her eyes open to the wide windows and the thousands of stars sparkling in the midnight sky overhead, she couldn't remember of whom she'd been dreaming.

The Hunter or the Titan.

"Sleep now, Guardian, you're safe here."

"Ghost."

And the small machine, her best friend, knew that he'd not been, would never be, the voice she most needed to hear when the nightmares would keep her awake at night. He hovered close to her head, dropping to rest on the corner of her pillow, just beneath the place where her right palm lay open against the cool linen surface. Emillie reached for him, pulling her Ghost close against her chest as she drew the sheets up and over their heads, crying violently to be free from a sorrow she was able to escape in neither sleep nor wake.

His voice was a low whisper, the only comfort he could offer her came in the form of a flash of dim blue light, "Let him go, Guardian. Leave the Hunter to rest."

Because he knew, even if she did not, that when she woke from her nightmares, it was no longer for the touch of a dead man that she was longing…


	3. Chapter 3

**AN** :: Well, after long last, here's the end… this one's not angsty. Happy Valentine's Day.

 **Disclaimer** :: Destiny isn't mine. But you better believe this story would be canon if it was. Characters are mine but the stuff that'd make me money is not.

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He was in love.

Love; the open, honest sentiment he had finally decided to apply the complex web of emotions that entangled him whenever he thought about her. Emillie. It was a constant rush of adrenaline racing through his blood like the oxygen that gave him life. It was anxiousness, excitement, fear – because for all the things he'd mulled over in his mind about what it would be like to see her again, he'd never once considered that she might not love him back.

That she might be angry was understandable. He'd left immediately after breaking into her dormitory to… the Traveler only knew what he'd wanted, what he'd honestly intended in being there.

And what he got?

He would make her forgive him if she was angry.

Because he loved her.

Because they were meant to be together.

She was his girl and Leif knew there was none other quite like her. As far as he was concerned, there never would be. All he'd felt after he left her room that morning was emptiness, numbness. He could feel nothing but guilt for what he'd done. To break into her room for the purpose of watching her while she slept was evil enough in its own right. That he'd been unable to control himself from reaching out to touch her soft hair, her skin? That he'd made love to her?

Unspeakable.

It hadn't been until three days later, when he was far below the Cosmodrome, stuck within the sights of a trio of House Devil Captains, unsure he was going to make it out, that he realized he loved her. The last emotion he would have felt had it not been for a Hunter's fast trigger, an adequate distraction, would have been regret. Regret that he'd not told her he was sorry, that he wished he'd stayed, that he loved her.

When the Titan had been returned safely to Tower, bound and determined to find his Warlock and make her understand, she had been away. The underbelly of the Cosmodrome, a place he'd just left, with two younger Warlocks.

So Leif had waited.

Five more days.

And he was sent to Venus before she had returned.

He'd looked for her everywhere after that. Subconsciously, each time he caught a glimmer of amethyst or sage or crimson in a Warlock's cloak his heart would soar. But it was never her auburn hair, her startling pale green eyes. Never her smile.

Finally, having broken down and admitted that he wasn't going to find her in a bar or within the Crucible, Leif went to the library. It was a place that, were he honest with himself, he could never remember having ventured – but, as far as he could tell, it seemed to be her favorite place in the entire Tower. Where else could she have passed so much of her time?

When she wasn't there, either, Leif set a hazel eye on her friend and fellow Warlock, "Farinha, have you seen Emillie around?"

"Depends who's asking."

"I'm asking," Leif pulled the book she was reading out of her hands and closed it, tossing it on top of a stack resting between them.

The tall blonde glanced up at the Titan. As her emerald eyes flashed, the Titan could tell that she had recognized who he was, even without his armor. She masked further emotion by returning her attention to a different text she had open on the table before her. If her pen had ever stopped moving, Leif was uncertain. The young Warlock replied in a tone soft enough he'd needed to lean forward to be certain he'd heard her, "I am not her keeper, Titan."

"Just tell me where I can find her," he replied.

She smirked, "What do you need with Emillie?"

Leif frowned, gripping the back of the chair before him as he leaned forward over the table to whisper, "It's important, Anna."

"You know as well as I that Emillie goes her own way," she sighed, letting her pen pause over the place where she would start the next word on her page. A drop of ink fell to the weathered parchment but she seemed unaffected, just shaking her head and venturing a cautious glance up to lock eyes with the Titan, "I don't know where she is."

But even with just one hazel eye, he had caught the glimmer of deception; he'd caught her lie. He'd been around a lot longer than this Warlock. Compared to Emillie, Anna was still green – he was so frustrated that he swore he could all but smell the death still on her, though she had been a Guardian for more than a year. She was a novice, inexperienced, nothing… He would be damned before he let her keep something from him. The Titan slammed an open palm over the table, growling, "Farinha!"

"Shh!" the angry hiss of an older Warlock, seated a few chairs away, drew the Titan's attention. Then, under her breath, she whispered something about Titans not belonging in a library.

Anna hid a soft chuckle behind her hand, turning her attention back to the book she had open. She turned a few pages further. Leif pulled out the chair across from her and took a seat. They were silent for a long while before, staring at his hands, he asked, "Why won't you tell me where she is?"

"It's personal, Leif," she looked up at him to frown, setting her lips in a tight line. She'd put down her pen to reach for one of the books stacked in a pile to her right, not the one he'd earlier closed. "So you don't wear out your welcome, why don't you keep yourself out of her business?"

The Titan narrowed his eye as he nudged a few sheets of paper closer to the Warlock with his fingertips. He had to bite his tongue to keep from confessing that he wanted all of the other Warlock's business to be his – that he wanted nothing more than to be privy to all of her secrets, to be the person with whom she would exclusively share such intimate details of her personal life. That it would be Anna coming to him when she was looking for Emillie. But he only closed his eye, drawing a deep breath as his shoulders slumped, "At least tell me that she's safe."

The Warlock sighed, leaning back in her chair. Leif could feel her eyes on him, studying him. She reached across the table to put her right hand over his, patting them gently as reassurance. There was sympathy in her eyes when he glanced up at her next. Her voice was soft when she whispered, "She's fine, Leif. You can find her in the recovery ward on four."

"The hospital?" he called out a bit louder than he might have intended. But he stood quickly, pulling his hands away from Anna's as he toppled a pile of books beside him into the Warlock's work space. He didn't stop to help her pick them up, didn't stop to respond to her sarcastic, "You're welcome, Titan."

His mind was racing.

His entire body had grown cold.

He was hardly aware of himself; that he was halfway across the Plaza towards the elevators by the time he'd restored enough awareness to summon his Ghost. His voice was low as he demanded, "Check today's field reports and the ones from yesterday. Where was she?"

In his hasty rush to the elevators, he'd nearly toppled over a fellow Titan. She had been wearing her armor, pink and white, and had an auto rifle strapped over her shoulders. Leif caught her before she could fall over entirely, muttering a hasty apology before hurrying on his way.

"Careful, Titan," his Ghost admonished. "I knew you were fond of this Guardian but the extent-"

"You're not being helpful, Ghost."

As Leif stepped across the threshold of the elevator, the small mechanical box whirred inside after him. When the doors were safely closed and the Titan had pressed the button for the fourth floor enough times the Ghost had decided to stop counting, he added, "Need I remind you that she's in the recovery ward? If there, she's not in any real danger."

"The field reports?" the Titan crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the back wall of the elevator as he waited. It felt like his stomach fell with each floor the elevator traveled.

"She wasn't on assignment with the Vanguard on either day."

"Nothing?"

"I'm afraid not," the Ghost replied, flashing blue light at Leif as the elevator came to a smooth halt on the proper floor.

Leif stepped off, running a hand through his sandy brown hair. He hesitated. The walls were a sterile white, still metal, but the stark contrast of this place compared to the rest of the Tower left the Titan feeling ill at ease. There was no sound. The hallways were empty, stretching to the left and right away from Leif.

He had never been to this floor. Anyone he'd ever thought to see here, in the hospital ward, had died before they'd ever needed to be moved off of the fifth floor. So he was thankful that Emillie was here, he supposed, and not one floor higher.

"She's in room 7B, Guardian," the Ghost urged. When the Titan still didn't move, he added, "Go left. Hers will be the third door from the end of the hallway."

His footsteps were slow as he wiped his palms against the rough cotton trousers he wore. He didn't look inside any of the other rooms as he passed them by; he couldn't bring himself to. When he came to her doorway, he froze.

There she was, lying propped up against soft white pillows but he was certain that she was asleep with her head turned just slightly towards the doorway. He could tell that she was asleep by the even rise and fall of her chest; that her pretty green eyes remained closed as sunlight slipped into her room through a nearby window. Her vibrant auburn hair seemed to glow like fire.

He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, relieved.

Other than an IV pressed into the top of her left hand, there seemed nothing wrong with her.

He walked over to her bedside and brushed the top of her right hand with gentle fingers. Her entire body trembled and her expression seemed to indicate that she was uncomfortable, even as she slept. Leif brushed her bangs away from her face and let his fingertips trail down her temple until he could rest his palm over her cheek as he whispered, "Shh, Emillie. It's alright."

Just as she seemed to relax, as her features softened and her trembling limbs stilled, a voice from the doorway he still had his back to startled the Titan.

"It's the codeine."

Leif turned to find another Titan standing in the doorway. He had dark hair cut short, suntanned skin, and was still wearing his armor. He smelled like clay soil and his boots were dirty with red sand. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame of the door as his dark eyes glimmered at Leif, "She never did take to it well. But the doctors were insistent, said she'd thank me for it later. When she wakes up."

"Who are you?"

"I might ask the same of you," the other Titan chuckled, finally entering the room to come stand beside Leif on the same side of the bed. "But I won't. I s'pose if you knew she was here, she asked ya to come."

He said nothing but watched as the other man placed three books on top of a rolling table that contained a bucket of ice and a glass of water.

Leif recognized this Titan now, though he was still unable to place a name with the newcomer. It was the same Titan he'd watched run his hands through Emillie's hair that night at the bar. The same man that had made her smile, made her laugh.

In response to the silence, the shorter man laughed, "Then again, maybe not."

"What happened?" Leif asked, motioning towards Emillie.

"Tonsillectomy," the dark-haired Titan lowered his gaze to the little Warlock in her mint green hospital gown. Her shoulders shook slightly and her expression hardened. Shaking his head, he sighed, "She was scared to death when the doctors were puttin' her under. I promised I'd be here when she woke up."

Leif nodded, picking up her hand and smiling down at her for the way she'd subconsciously tightened her fingers around his. Like she knew that it was him. Like she wanted for it to be him.

"She hates hospitals in general," the other Titan added. "Needles in particular."

The sandy-haired Titan pulled his hand away reluctantly. He wasn't alone with her – but he smiled all the same. She was scared of hospitals, eh? He found this trait to be endearing; just another of her mysteries, the secrets that only made him more fond of her.

"Hiram," the other Titan held his hand out in greeting.

"Leif."

Emillie shivered and, without hesitation, Leif reached for the threadbare quilt at the foot of her bed. He pulled it over her slight frame, tucking it underneath her chin with great care. He could feel Hiram's eyes on him but he kept his attention directed at the woman sleeping beside them.

Was this him? Was this other Titan the man that Emillie had asked him to make her forget? Leif felt his jaw clench, his gaze hardened. Could Fate really be so cruel as to place the man she wanted to love before the one who so desperately wanted that she love him?

As much as he dreaded the answer, he had to ask the question.

"So, you and Emillie," he tried to sound casual, like his soul didn't feel like it was being ripped from his body, like the answer mattered no more to him than the weather or where the Vanguard might send him next. But he couldn't find the words to voice the remainder of his thought. He felt empty just thinking on what the answer might be.

His throat had gone dry, his voice had been lost.

"I'm her Fireteam Leader," the other Titan replied with an easy smile, nudging Leif's shoulder with his elbow as though he wanted the other Titan to lighten up. Leif could tell that the other man had read him like an open book. Was he really so transparent? He sighed, relaxing, when Hiram added, "When she's not leading new Warlocks through the Cosmodrome, that is."

But that had only answered half of his question. Hiram hadn't really told him anything useful; that he didn't love her, that they weren't together was a start. What would it have mattered how he felt for Emillie if she loved Hiram? His hazel eyes watched the woman tremble in her bed and he frowned, shaking his head.

When she started to stir, the sandy-haired Titan had to look away. He had to close his eye and grip the metal railing beside her bed to keep himself from reaching out to her. He was too afraid to know how she would react to seeing him. After all his waiting. After all his certainty… Leif had finally come to terms with the fact that she might reject him.

He needed her.

"Well, well! Look who's finally awake," Hiram's voice broke the silence.

"Leif?"

She'd sounded surprised and maybe a little hopeful. When he looked at her, he'd caught her reaction just in time to see pain in her pretty green eyes as her right hand reached for her throat, as though touch alone could undo the pain she'd just brought upon herself. But he could see happiness in her eyes, too. At least, he thought that was the right name for the emotion.

"Shh, kid! Don't talk," Hiram scolded. And when she reached for the IV at her left hand, presumably to pull it away, the dark-haired Titan caught her hand. "And leave that alone. Talkin' and refusin' your meds aren't either one good for your recovery."

But she hadn't turned to look at the other Titan. Her eyes were still on Leif. He smiled when he felt her fingers intertwine with his. When she opened her mouth like she meant to speak, Leif cut her off by gently reminding, "You'd better listen to Hiram."

She lowered her chin in acknowledgement, the small smile beginning to form at the corners of her lips not going anywhere.

"You thirsty, Em?" Hiram asked.

She shook her head 'no'.

"Want somethin' to eat?"

Another 'no' as her eyes remained intensely focused on Leif.

"You see somethin' else you'd like?"

"Hiram!" she cried, immediately pulling her hand out of Leif's to clutch her sore throat. Her cheeks were flushed and she was glaring at the other Titan.

Leaning forward, Leif brushed away a tear from the corner of her eye before it could fall. He shook his head at Hiram, "Don't tease her."

"I brought the books you asked for," Hiram changed the subject but still wore the confident grin that his teasing had afforded him. He pushed the cart a little closer to her bedside, that she might be able to reach the books when she wanted them. "If there's nothing else you need from me," and he'd placed special emphasis on the word 'me' before lowering the metal bar at the side of her hospital bed and continuing, "Then I'll plan on seeing you tomorrow."

She nodded.

And Leif smiled for the delicate flush that rushed to her cheeks when Hiram added, "Don't keep her up too late, Leif."

The pair of Guardians was silent for the first few moments as Emillie's hand found its way back into Leif's. He just admired her, watching her watching him, as he took a seat on the edge of her bed and brushed her bangs out of her face, "Hi, Emillie."

She whispered, "Hi, Leif."

"Hi."

The pale green hospital gown she wore looked dull when compared to the vibrant color of her eyes. He was thankful then, so thankful, that she was alright.

"I really thought the worst, you know," he confessed quietly, letting his gaze travel to where their hands rested, interlaced, in her lap. Her hand felt so small within his; when she brought her free hand, the one with the IV, to rest over his, he looked at her again.

He tried to read her expression; she seemed to be asking him if he was serious, if he had honestly believed that she could land herself in the hospital for being careless in the field. And, while maybe a few days ago he would have appreciated the sentiment of her humor, laughed at her silent defiance, now things were… different.

Leif had finally admitted to himself how much he cared about her. He'd had the better part of a week to adjust to the admission, to start fitting the pieces together in his mind. That he had loved her, always; when he'd first seen her four years prior. When they had both been young and scared of what a future protecting their Last City might mean. He could understand, now, the reason no other woman before her had ever stuck; the others had all shared the same shortcoming. None of them had been Emillie.

He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find the right words to say. Leif loved her, sure, but she was still in love with someone else. She'd said as much herself. And he felt his heart sink, beating an uneven pace in his chest. He frowned, shaking his head.

"Smile, Titan," she whispered, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

There was concern etched over her delicate features and she had leaned forward to sit up and away from her soft white pillows.

Then, offering him a slight smile, she added even more softly, "They were only tonsils. I'm told I'll be better off without them."

But Leif couldn't laugh – he felt too conflicted. Was this how she felt about him? That his concerns for her well-being should be dismissed without thought, as though they carried no weight? That he wasn't the person who she wanted to harbor such genuine concerns? He closed his eyes and turned away.

"Leif? What's wrong?"

He felt her hand on his cheek and leaned into her touch, putting his hand over hers. His eye was still closed as he took a deep breath. The Titan had to tell her; even if it would be a message she wouldn't want to hear. Even if it meant that she might walk out of his life forever…

"I'm sorry, Emillie," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I left."

He felt her thumb trace quietly over his cheek, brushing against the smooth leather band that held the eye-patch over his injured eye, but still could not bring himself to look at her. He could hardly breathe.

He loved this woman so much it physically hurt.

"I-" and he paused, his breath catching in the back of his throat. He had to tell her. Emillie needed to know how he felt. "I wanted to stay but I was afraid I might hurt you."

Her right arm found its way around his neck and he felt her bury her face in the place where his shoulder met his neck. Her breath was short and when her hair bushed against his chin, he felt chills race down his spine. But he wrapped his arms around her anyway; his right hand found bare skin at the small of her back where the hospital gown she wore split in two. His left hand cradled the nape of her neck, fingers lacing through her soft hair.

He turned his face to her, pressing his lips to the crown of her head, whispering, "I'm in love with you, Emillie."

When he felt her pull away, his heart stopped beating. Her right arm stayed where it was around his neck but her left hand came to rest on his chest, over his heart. When he looked down at her, there were tears in her eyes; he brushed them all away with a gentle hand. And she sighed through her tears, burying her face in the soft folds of his t-shirt, whispering, "I love you, too, Leif. So much."

The Titan smiled, relaxed in his relief. He pulled her as close to him as he could manage while still minding how fragile she felt in his arms. His lips found hers and he kissed her softly, over and over again as she eased aside to make room that he could lie beside her. Absentmindedly, Leif kicked off his boots, gently laying his woman back into the soft folds of her pillows as he kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, the tender place behind her ear.

He let her get comfortable, watching as she rolled over on her side, and he pulled her back flush against his chest. She tucked her head beneath his chin, her little arms wrapping around his so that she held them close to her chest. The Titan reached across the bed to the rolling table and picked up one of the books, whispering, "Let's see what Hiram brought for you to read, eh?"

Emillie nodded, using her right hand to help him keep the book open. He let his right arm fall over her hip, wrap protectively around her small frame, holding her body against his.

"It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen," he read, pausing once to kiss the top of her head before he continued. "Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast in an effort to escape the vile wind, slipped quickly through the glass doors of Victory Mansions, though not quickly enough to prevent a swirl of gritty dust from entering along with him."

At his feet, a pair of Ghosts landed silently atop the threadbare quilt, listening intently as a Titan read to his Warlock; the smooth sound of his deep voice eventually lulling her back to sleep.

When she turned over in his arms, curling against his chest and clutching the fabric of his t-shirt tightly in her small fists, Leif smiled. He pulled her close to kiss her forehead and whispered, "Goodnight, Emillie."

He watched her smile, nodding against his chest.

When he made to gently pull away, her green eyes opened and she whispered, "Please stay."

"Oh, Emillie," he smiled, closing his eye and settling in beside her. "I thought you'd never ask."

She snuggled against his chest as she drifted into a peaceful sleep. The Titan's hand traced gentle lines up and down her back until he, too, followed after.


End file.
